


Walking the Wire

by LaMepriseFangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Episode: s14e11 Damaged Goods, Episode: s14e19 Jack in the Box, Episode: s14e20 Moriah, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s14e12 Prophet and Loss, Post-Episode: s14e13 Lebanon, Post-Episode: s14e14 Ouroboros, Post-Episode: s14e15 Peace of Mind, Post-Episode: s14e16 Don't Go In The Woods, Season/Series 14, Soulmates Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-10-19 06:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMepriseFangirl/pseuds/LaMepriseFangirl
Summary: Having agreed to help Dean with his plan to lock Michael away, Sam is next faced with feelings his brother has kept secret from him. Saying no is inconceivable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying something a little different from what I usually do, namely writing an episode coda and the next chapter will attempt to reconcile that with whatever happens in the next episode.
> 
> Title is from my latest favorite Wincest power ballad by Imagine Dragons. Give it a listen and feel the Sam'n'Dean in your soul.

"Alright," is when Sam starts to die inside. Agreeing to lock Dean in a box and throw him into the ocean is the beginning of the end.

He means to help, but he walks back to the house and sits down with his head in his hands. Mom sits next to him, rubbing his back a little, even though she doesn't know yet how bad it is.

"Please tell me you have whiskey around here," he says eventually.

*

Late that night, Mom is asleep, and Dean comes in from the shed.

In the dim lighting, Sam sits up on the couch, gets his feet on the floor. He can't tell if he's still half-asleep or if he drank more than he meant to.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Maudlin, Sam hangs his head and tries not to break down. He doesn't know how to accept that these are their final days together.

"Dean..." he whispers.

He feels the weight of his brother sitting next to him on the couch. Dean rests his chin on Sam's shoulder for a few seconds.

"Sam, there's something you should know."

"What?"

"Something about me, something... bad, but I don't wanna hide it anymore."

Sam finally makes himself look at his brother.

"What is it, Dean?"

Dean takes a deep breath and cups his younger brother's cheek, then smooths back his hair.

"I-" He licks his lips. The shadows in the room make it hard to be sure, but Sam thinks Dean is looking at his mouth. Like he's thinking about kissing it.

What is he trying to say, that he has feelings for Sam? That seems to be where this is headed, but it's so absurd to think that Dean of all people would have that kind of a secret.

He senses trepidation in his brother, so he reassures him:

"It's okay, Dean. Whatever you're trying to say, I'm listening."

"It's not okay. What I feel when I look at you... that's not okay."

"Whatever it is, however long you've hidden it, it's fine." He takes Dean's face in his hands. "You're good, Dean. Everything you are is good."

"What I want isn't."

"Tell me."

"...My own brother."

Sam touches their foreheads together.

"That's not necessarily wrong." He feels oddly peaceful in this moment. He has never wanted to kiss or touch his brother but if it's what Dean wants, he feels entirely comfortable with the idea.

He's about to lose him forever, anyway.

"Then..." Dean is trembling like Sam's never seen or felt before, but then he presses his parted lips to Sam's mouth.

Why would Sam fight this? Why wouldn't he give this to Dean? It's just a kiss. He reciprocates eagerly.

It's somehow a surprise when Dean's tongue passes over Sam's lip. It hadn't really occurred to him that Dean might want more, that his brother was hoping against hope itself that he could have Sam tonight in every way.

Well, Sam thinks, he can handle a make-out session. If he can make tonight a good night for Dean, then he will.

Maybe, somehow, if he does this, he won't lose his brother.

He kisses back with passion. It's easier than he ever would have imagined, even against unfamiliar rough stubble, a body without any of the curves he might lust for—his brother.

"Sam," Dean whispers. "Oh, God..."

It gives Sam a thrill to feel wanted, no matter how taboo the circumstances.

And if he's wanted, then... maybe this is an escape for a few minutes. Maybe he can forget.

He runs his hand over Dean's chest, then down to his hip. He splays his fingers over his brother's thigh, waiting for a signal to keep going.

Dean kisses his neck as he moves Sam's hand up, presses it against the hot bulge in his jeans.

"What do you want me to do, Dean?"

Without a word, Dean pulls away. He gets on his knees in front of Sam, between his legs.

Oh.

Dean unbuckles Sam's belt and starts to open his fly before realizing that his brother isn't even hard. He pauses, a record-scratch moment.

"You don't seem too interested in this."

Sam would question it too, if the person he was about to go down on seemed completely unaroused. However, his brother is going to have to make an exception. He looks Dean in the eye:

"You told me how you feel for a reason. You told me because if there was a snowball's chance of having this, you wanted it. The answer's yes. You have that chance, so take it."

"Sammy..."

"Dean, I've been locked up with an archangel. I can't tell you how bad it's gonna be, because there aren't words for how helpless, and scared, and alone I was." He's struck again with the absolute despair of their situation and has to take a deep breath before continuing. "I'd do anything to take your place now, so that you never have to know what it's like, but I can't. I can't do anything except give you this. If there's something you want, have it. Have me."

Dean is still hesitating, so Sam takes his cock out and strokes it right in front of him until it hardens. His brother is stunned.

"Is that interested enough for you?"

"...It's not real."

"None of this is real," Sam replies, which doesn't make a lot of sense but Dean understands him.

"I wanted it to be real with you."

"What we each want is real. Tonight, there's nothing you could want that I don't want to give."

Dean's eyes are shining with tears. He blinks them away as he nods. Sam nods back, then his brother lowers his head and presses a kiss to the head of Sam's cock.

Sam starts to feel the flush of true arousal creeping over his skin. For perhaps the first time in his life, he is excited about not quite knowing what's about to happen to his body, because he can trust Dean. Whatever happens, it will be the right thing.

He keeps his hands at his sides as Dean's tongue runs over every inch of his cock. His heart is pounding; his world has been overturned. His brother is leaving but his brother wants him. His brother is afraid to be selfish but his brother was hoping for this.

Dean takes the head into his mouth and wraps his hand around the shaft of Sam's cock, tongue working him over, hand giving expert strokes. Sam lets out a soft groan before biting his lip. He can't be loud; they can't be heard. He encourages Dean by caressing his face, his hair.

Then Dean does something with his teeth and Sam almost comes right then and there.

"Oh, shit," he whispers without meaning to. He starts to rock his hips slightly, unable to help himself when he's so close. He warns in a low whisper, "I'm gonna come, Dean."

His brother pulls off.

"I'm not done with you yet."

Sam's cock, left untouched, is oozing pre-come. Dean catches it on his finger and then licks it off.

Sam completely forgets about everything except giving himself to Dean. He's ready, eager to submit himself to his brother.

His brother very gently uses his tongue again, letting Sam back away from the edge of climax. He'll do that thing again, Sam thinks. The anticipation of it has him too excited to calm down much. He's breathing hard but he has to keep his mouth covered or he'll probably start making too much noise and wake up-

Whatever Dean does with his mouth sends piercing waves of pleasure through his body. Sam's groan is muffled but his free hand tightens on his brother's shoulder.

Again, Dean pauses, but rather than say anything, he runs his hands up and down Sam's denim-clad thighs as spit and precome run down the shaft of his cock.

"Should I do it again?" he asks with a grin when Sam is in more control of his faculties.

"Only if you like tasting come."

Dean makes a soft noise and unzips his own jeans.

Sam wonders what Dean will want him to do. He's never given a blowjob in his life but he'll try it for his brother.

The vague thoughts vanish when Dean takes Sam into his mouth again, sucking and licking.

Sam's so keyed up already, he'll never survive another whatever the hell Dean did, if he even lasts that long.

"Dean," he dares to whisper in warning before covering his mouth again. Dean's tongue starts flicking over a particularly sensitive spot on his dick. Sam makes a muffled sound. He can't hold back.

For a few fantastic seconds, everything is pleasure, release, euphoria. A sense of security, a feeling that nothing could ever be wrong in the world because he's with the person he trusts above all others.

He looks down at his big brother, who pulls off of Sam's softening cock and swallows without hesitation.

Closing his eyes, Sam tries to steady his heart. He has to be strong while Dean's still here, give his brother the best night he can.

He's confused when Dean gets up and turns away. He catches him by the belt.

"Dean? Don't you want me to... return the favor?"

Without turning around, his brother answers:

"Letting me do something to you is one thing. I can't ask you to..."

"I want to, Dean."

"No, you don't, not really."

Sam considers lying, but before he can, they hear a noise above them. Mom.

He scrambles to tuck himself away and zip up his jeans again. Dean uses the distraction as a chance to head outside.

It was probably a mistake, Sam thinks, letting his brother do that when he doesn't feel the same way. He's just so desperate to make things right with Dean, give him everything he can.

He tugs on his jacket and follows Dean out into the backyard.

The stars are out. It's been a long time since they watched the stars together, he thinks.

"Thank you," Dean says as Sam sits next to him at the picnic table.

"I feel like I should be the one saying that."

"I'm a messed up guy, Sam. You let me be selfish."

"Selfish is running off to get thrown into the ocean forever without telling me. That was..." Sam isn't sure if it's a good idea to say _"one of the best blowjobs of my life"_ but it's the truth. He opts for something that's neither true nor false: "That wasn't difficult for me."

"Well, still. Thank you."

"Are you sure you don't-"

"Yes."

"Alright." Sam holds up his hands.

It's pleasantly, comfortably quiet as they look up at the sky. Although he succeeds in not thinking about what they just did, Sam's mind is dragged to the thing in the shed. The goddamn coffin.

_"You're the only one who could've talked me out of it."_

He won't try to talk Dean out of it, but he has to speak his mind, or regret it forever.

"Dean..."

"What?" His brother looks at him.

"I'll let the world burn if it means we'll be together at the end. I don't care what it costs, I don't care who we lose, I don't care if it's tomorrow. Earth, Heaven, Hell, God, the stars... everything will end someday. I just wanted to be with you when it did."

Dean is crying by the time Sam finishes speaking. He breathes deeply and wipes his cheeks before responding:

"I can't believe you expect me to know what the hell to say to that."

"Tell me there's another way."

"I wish I could. If I don't do this, Sam, Michael will wear my face forever. There's no third option where he possesses someone else while we go down swinging. If there was, then I'd do it for you, but there isn't. Dead or alive, there's no way this ends with us together."

"But..." There are no words—Sam couldn't get them past the lump in his throat anyway.

How can that be true? All their choices, acts of love, mistakes, wins, losses, and somehow they've come to this, a crossroads where all paths deny them the only reward they ever would have asked for the multiple times they've saved the seven billion people on the planet. How can the one thing they've always fought for, the one thing they needed for it all to be worth it, now be the one thing they can't have?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post 14x12 Prophet and Loss

Well, he may not have completely talked Dean out of it, but Sam did talk his brother into waiting.

Part of him wonders if what he did the other night helped. Maybe Dean confessed because he thought Sam would be disgusted, because he thought that would make it easier to let go. Instead Sam accepted it, urged Dean to take what he wanted.

The only drawback to talking him off the ledge is that they now have to deal with the consequences. Unrequited feelings that are out in the open. An experience that may have been a mistake although Sam doesn't regret it.

It's not that he _never_ would have done it if he'd known he'd get more time with Dean; he just wouldn't have pressured his brother in that moment of hesitation.

Now Sam glances at his brother and kind of can't believe that the memory of Dean on his knees, sucking his dick, is real.

It is, though. And maybe it's part of why Sam is getting a chance to find another way.

*

Although Sam means to put the incident out of his mind, in favor of the much more pressing matter of Michael, his mind keeps getting drawn back to it.

If giving himself to his brother helped at all, maybe it could work again if Dean's faith starts to flag.

It's not like he can seduce his brother just out of the blue next time Dean thinks about quitting. Sam has to get it out in the open as soon as possible. He has to make it real, make Dean believe.

Believe what? Sam can't lie and say he has feelings he doesn't. He can't begin to imagine how badly that would end. But there has to be a way to convince Dean of the truth: that he can have what he wants, at least physically.

For Sam, who craves his brother's approval, it burns to think of Dean wanting something he can't provide, Dean hoping to have his feelings returned and Sam disappointing him.

It's not his fault, but it sure feels like letting Dean down.

So, the next best thing. Convince Dean that even though Sam doesn't share incestuous feelings, he wants to play along.

There's no way to even pretend to himself that it's not a crazy, dysfunctional, fucked-up idea, but Sam has two jobs now—keep Dean hanging in there and find a way to take care of Michael. Whatever encourages Dean, whatever gives them more time, it will be worth it.

No lying, Sam tells himself. Exaggerate or minimize, omit details, embellish the truth, but he can't tell any lies when it comes to this.

*

Less than an hour after returning to the bunker, Sam has organized his... proposal and finds Dean alone.

Dean is standing there looking at the box. The coffin. The thing that might still take him away. The thing Sam wishes he could take a sledgehammer to.

"Hey." He hands his brother a beer, waits until Dean's taken a sip, then leans against the box so he doesn't have to look at it. "We should talk."

Dean closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He probably knew this was coming.

"Forget it happened, Sam. Please."

"If that's what you want. Nothing has to change. But that's not the only option."

That gets Dean's attention.

"What d'you mean?"

"Maybe you could have something you want. Something you thought you couldn't have."

Dean's eyes move over Sam's body, from head to toe and back again. Appreciative in more than one way.

It's a weird feeling. At the end of the day, what Sam needs more than anything is the feeling that he's made his brother proud or happy, a sensation of being wanted by Dean. He never imagined Dean would want him like this—physically, pleasurably. He barely knows how to process it. How did his brother start to want him this way? When?

"You don't even like guys, Sam. You only like women."

"I don't see myself spending the rest of my life with a woman," Sam points out.

"You don't feel the same way I do."

"Maybe not the exact same way, but why do you think I did it?"

"It was a last-night-on-Earth thing. You were drunk."

"I wasn't that drunk."

"You thought you were gonna lose me."

"That's not why I did it."

"Then quit telling me what it wasn't and tell me what it was, Sam."

"It was something that could happen again. As long as you let me... give back next time."

Dean stares in disbelief.

"I'm just saying, Dean. Forgetting isn't the only option here, just like this box isn't the only option." He touches his brother's shoulder.

Dean reaches up to keep Sam's hand there, shutting his eyes for a few seconds.

"Sammy, you don't have to do this to keep me here. I'm staying, as long as I can."

"I know. If you want to wait until after we take care of Michael, then we'll wait."

Then Dean seems to realize that this isn't meant to be bribery or a temporary incentive to stay. Sam is suggesting a permanent change to the nature of their relationship, independent of potentially world-ending circumstances.

It's ten kinds of wrong, but Sam doesn't care what it takes to keep Dean next to him, breathing, and he wants to see his brother happy. He wants to see Dean pleased with him, see and feel his brother's approval.

"What if you decide you don't like it?" Dean asks. "What if this ruins... us?"

"Dean, we've tried to kill each other more than once. We got past it. I'm not afraid of the morning after."

After a long, pensive silence, Dean sighs and turns away.

"Good night, Sam."

"...Good night," Sam murmurs, watching his brother walk away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm really gonna regret posting this without a beta reader.

When Sam wakes up in his dark bedroom with the worst hangover he's had in over a decade and someone sleeping next to him, he's got questions.

Last he knew, it was him, Dean, and Cas breaking out the whiskey because it was Dean's birthday and it's been three and a half weeks of nothing since he called off the stupid plan to be locked in a box forever. They've been spinning their wheels; they needed a break.

The only other person in the bunker last night was Jack, whom Sam remembers sending to bed after letting him have one shot.

So, who's on his bed right now? He's on his side on top of the covers, facing away from them. He's mostly naked—his jeans and briefs have been shoved halfway down his thighs, leaving him totally exposed.

He's positive he recognizes the light snoring behind him, but there is no way he drunkenly hooked up with his brother. Absolutely impossible. ...Except for the fact that it is completely possible.

He turns over to look, squinting in the light from the hallway—fuck, his door is wide open.

And that's Dean, equally naked.

"...Shit."

He stumbles to the door, swearing under his breath as he tries to get his jeans back on, and pushes it shut, cringing at the sound. Covering his eyes, he turns on the light.

"Turn that off," Dean complains.

"Dean?"

"What're you doing in- oh, shit."

They blink at each other, observing discarded clothing near the bed, dried come on their bodies and the blanket...

"I don't remember anything, do you?" Dean asks, covering himself.

"No. Complete blank."

"Great..."

"It was your birthday," Sam thinks aloud. "Maybe I..."

"What, wanted to give me a happy ending?"

He shrugs in agreement. They haven't so much as spoken about this potential aspect of their relationship. Dean clearly wanted to pretend nothing happened between them that night in the cabin. It wasn't hard to abide by that rule, at least not until last night it seems.

"Well, if that's what happened, I appreciate the thought. Too bad we'll never know." Dean turns his head and then Sam notices something else out of the ordinary.

"Whoa," he says without meaning to.

"What?"

Clearing his throat, Sam points at a spot on his own neck.

His brother gets up and looks in the mirror.

"Son of a bitch."

"I think that's from me," Sam apologizes.

"Ya think?" Dean drops the sarcasm and says more gently, "I don't mind, it just blows that it's somewhere everyone'll see it."

"Maybe Cass can take care of it."

"He knows what a hickey is, Sam."

"The door's been open all night. We'd be lucky if all he knows about is the hickey."

With a groan of despair, Dean turns on the faucet and splashes some water on his face. Sam sits on the bed, hiding his eyes from the light. This is an awkward situation but Dean is remaining calm, so he can be calm, too.

"Wouldn't want to be sneaking around him anyway, if this did become a thing," his brother admits a few moments later as he gets dressed. "He's our best friend."

"Right. He'd understand." Sam really wishes he knew what happened last night. It looks like they traded handjobs, but how did they go from a casual birthday bender to sex with the door open? Was Dean innocently helping him to bed or was there intent on someone's part?

"Do you _want_ this to become a thing, Sam?"

"I think we could give it a shot when we're sober enough to remember, see how it goes."

"...Really."

"Yes, really."

"And you'll let me know if you're not into it? You'll be honest?"

"Yeah, Dean. Of course," Sam lies.

*

The only time they ever speak of that specific incident again is later that day when Sam sees his brother's neck is free of marks.

"What did Cas say?"

"You don't wanna know."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I did some damage control and we will never, ever talk about it again." Dean hands him a beer, which Sam accepts.

He also accepts the fact that Cas is probably more aware of what lines Sam and Dean crossed while black-out drunk than they are. It's embarrassing, stupid, and probably unresolvable, and they're going to have to live with their mistakes.

*

Another two weeks pass, during which nothing untoward happens between them. They get their hands on a wish-granting pearl, but of course wishes don't come free and the price is too high.

Crushing it still makes Sam feel like a monster.

Also, there goes one way of remembering what happened on Dean's birthday, although chances are if Sam had used the pearl it wouldn't have done what he thought he wanted anyway. He doesn't want to know what his heart's greatest desire is.

After Mom leaves, and Cas goes off somewhere with Jack again, it's just Sam and Dean alone with the rest of the box of occult objects. It all needs to be catalogued and put away.

"Really thought we had something with that pearl," Dean remarks, poking through the items.

"We did," Sam points out. "But... that wasn't the answer."

"'I mean, God bless kale, am I right?'" Dean mocks.

"Shut up."

*

They put away everything from the box, and it's then that Dean asks, in a deadly serious tone:

"Sammy, will you be ready if we do have to use the Ma'lak box?"

Just the thought makes his entire body tense, like someone's dragging their fingernails across a chalkboard in his head. Like watching someone hurt a child. Like seeing Nick and trying not to think about what that face has done to him.

Sam puts the now-obsolete ledger on its designated shelf with more force than he needs to.

"Why are you asking?"

"Because we are getting closer and closer to the day Michael gets out."

"We're going to find something, Dean," he dismisses.

"I know, but if I told you tomorrow that there's no time left-"

"Are you going to tell me tomorrow there's no time left?"

"No."

"Then stop it." Sam stalks out of the room. After the emotional day they had yesterday, he can't handle thinking about that too.

Dean follows him all the way to his room.

"I will punch you again," Sam warns.

"Sam, I'm scared!" Dean says, which gets the younger man's attention. "I'm scared of what Michael's gonna do to you if you can't do what you have to, when you have to."

That, Sam understands. He remembers, in the old cemetery, hearing his brother, _"I wanna talk to Sam,"_ and despairing, knowing one of the archangels would kill Dean and he would be forced to watch. And then it got so much worse when Sam felt Dean's bones breaking.

He wouldn't wish the same experience on his brother, but he's much more scared of what Michael will do to Dean if they're locked in that box together. He's more scared of being alone forever.

This time, he hugs Dean before things get overwhelming.

"Michael won't hurt me," he promises.

Dean hugs back and holds on tightly. Sam almost starts to feel awkward at how long it lasts, but they need this.

When they start to pull apart, Dean's eyes meet Sam's.

"Can I..." he starts to ask, then corrects himself, "Can _we_ try something tonight?"

"What do you mean?"

Dean closes the door. The energy in the room changes.

"Oh." It's finally happening. "Yeah, definitely. What, uh- what're you thinking?"

"Start small, maybe?" Dean moves closer.

Sam nods in agreement. This energy, this spark between them, is so clearly romantic, verging on sexually charged, which makes it almost alarming when he realizes he's felt this way before with Dean. He missed it before because he simply never thought of his brother that way.

Has Dean been close to revealing the truth before? What else has Sam missed?

Those questions become unimportant when Dean kisses him.

It is again surprisingly easy. Sam likes it; he likes the way it makes him feel. It's not arousing the way it would be if a woman was doing it, but to feel the depths of Dean's affection for him in a physical way, not just see it or hear it, that's good. It's more than good, it's _right_.

He goes along with it when Dean's lips open slightly, inviting his tongue. He prefers to kiss rather than be kissed, and gathers that Dean has a corollary preference.

This part is right, he thinks again. They do fit together when they do this.

"We could do this lying down, y'know," Dean points out.

Sam isn't completely sure where things will go if they get on the bed, but his brother is asking. He doesn't know how to say no.

He nods, and is immediately pulled down onto the bed, on top of Dean.

His brother seems exhilarated by it; his eyes are practically sparkling as he looks up at Sam's face.

It's not the type of approval Sam ever wanted, but this sensation, Dean focused completely on him, wanting him, it's like being caught in a riptide. There is no escape.

Not that he's looking for one.

He lowers his head and begins to suck on Dean's throat. If his brother liked this when they were drunk, he'll probably like it now. The way Dean inhales sharply says a lot, but the way his cock hardens against Sam's thigh says even more.

Then Dean starts to run his hand through Sam's hair.

It's the weirdest feeling in the world, his brother petting him, stroking his hair. He never imagined Dean wanting to do something so purely affectionate, and he never would have imagined it feeling so incredibly good.

"Sammy," Dean sighs. His hands move down to Sam's hips and squeeze. "Lemme feel you."

Sam has had over a month to prepare for this moment, to figure out how to be interested in something he isn't.

He takes Dean's hand, guides it to his cock, and then, his face still hidden, closes his eyes and pictures his favorite shot from his favorite porno.

It's fine, Sam tells himself. Just because he's never had to think about someone or something else during sex before doesn't make this wrong. Maybe. It's just this one time.

Between the touch of Dean's palm and mental images of what Sam thinks is one of the hottest things ever recorded, it's easy to make his brother think he's getting turned on from the situation. He does get a little extra jolt of... excitement when he feels Dean's cock twitch. Arousing his brother, knowing he's going to give Dean something he's wanted for years, those are good feelings.

He goes back to kissing Dean's face, meanwhile grinding against his hand.

Is it lying with his body to be thinking about a couple of porn stars sixty-nining while in bed with his brother?

It's dishonest, but again, he tells himself, this is one time. He won't do it again.

Dean's hips are thrusting against his body, so Sam decides to simplify things. He adjusts himself and his position above Dean, then presses down, rubbing their trapped cocks against each other.

He's a little surprised that Dean's initial reaction is to simply wrap his arms around Sam's body for a few seconds, holding him tightly. Like he's trying to tell him that this is more than sex.

After that, things proceed as normally as Sam could expect from a make-out session with his brother. There's a lot of kissing, different types of petting, hands underneath shirts, and a few groans of pleasure—one of which wasn't from Dean. It's a pretty good deal anyway, satisfying Dean and being physically rewarded himself.

They're taking it very slow, which Sam almost thinks is funny considering how much experience they each have, but it means a lot that Dean is being sure to treat him like more than a hookup.

Then Dean whispers in his ear:

"Are you close?"

"Getting there," Sam admits. He's enjoying the slow build-up, stretching out the plateau phase before they either call it a night or take the next step.

"I wanna see you, Sam," his brother says, tugging at his clothes to make his meaning clear. "Wanna see every inch of you when you come."

Sam hesitates. He isn't sure he wants Dean to see him naked and hard in a fully lit room. It's a form of vulnerability that he isn't ready for.

"Sam? You okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

"You sure? We can slow down."

"Dean, I'm not some sixteen year old virgin." Sam sits up and starts to strip out of spite. He sees Dean doing the same, which should make him feel better, but he wasn't ready to see Dean naked in this context either.

When their clothes are on the floor, Dean pulls him close again and Sam finds himself rutting against Dean out of instinct; he is getting close and there's warm flesh to rub his cock against. Dean is doing the same.

"Can I finish you with my hand?" Dean asks.

"Yes."

"Sit up, get closer."

Uncertain but unable to reason with himself against it, Sam obeys, straddling Dean's abdomen. His brother's erection is pressing against his ass, leaking precome. He watches as Dean licks his hand and then wraps it around Sam's cock like it's some holy relic.

Sam's eyes close as Dean's hand begins to move. He's never gotten a handjob better than what he can do himself, but this is one of the best.

"Hey," Dean says.

It's a very strange experience making eye contact with his brother while being pleasured, but the peace and affection in Dean's expression make it more than worth it.

"Yeah?"

"I-" Dean seems to lose his nerve. After a couple seconds, he manages a weak but honest, "I love this."

"I love this, too," Sam answers because he can guess what Dean meant to say but couldn't quite get past his usual tough-guy exterior.

Dean's hand goes still. The way his gaze travels, admiring Sam's body, is both heart-warming and unsettling.

"Try fucking my fist."

Sam pulls his hips back and then thrusts into the channel created by his brother's hand.

"Good?"

"Yeah."

"Then fuck me, Sam," Dean whispers with a lascivious smile.

He goes for it, knowing he's not far off from orgasm. He doesn't need thoughts of the porno anymore; he has friction and a partner literally asking to be fucked.

His brother probably can tell when Sam hits the point of no return, but there's just enough blood left in Sam's head for him to think of warning him.

"Gonna come, Dean."

"Do it, Sammy. Come for me."

Another thrust and the friction sends him over the edge, orgasm thrilling his body as he comes on his brother's chest.

Fuck, that was good.

Breathing hard, Sam looks at Dean's face when his hand falls away.

His first truly coherent thought as he regains his ability to think is that sure, sex is great, but nobody's seen the utter beatitude in Dean's expression. He can't remember the last time his brother looked so completely happy. He can't remember the last time he caused his brother so much joy.

Now he definitely wants to know how Dean will look when he comes, so he shuffles back until Dean's cock is in front of him and takes it in his hand without hesitation.

He strokes it slowly as he meets his brother's eyes.

"You gonna come for me, Dean?"

The answer is yes, evidenced by a wordless moan, Dean's eyes almost rolling back in his head, and come running down Sam's hand.

He didn't think Dean was that close, but he chooses to keep quiet and take the compliment. He watched his brother's face as he came, and he wants to see that face more, see his brother feeling good instead of being sad or worried.

Neither of them say anything as Sam grabs a few tissues to clean up with. Once that's taken care of, he lies next to Dean.

So, that just happened. And now... what, the afterglow? They come down from their highs and process what they did?

He glances at his brother, and is shocked to see a tear on his cheek.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, awesome. More than awesome." He leans over and kisses Sam softly, touching his cheek. "This has been the best two days of my life, Sam."

"I know how you feel," Sam agrees, though his heart is sinking.

"Mind if I stay the night?"

"Sure."

They settle in under the covers, Dean resting his head against Sam's shoulder as nonchalantly as he can.

Sam closes his eyes. He's made a huge mistake.

He's just made his brother happier than he's ever been. He just proved that he can give his brother something no one else can. He felt at-home the whole time, knew it was going to be okay because he was with Dean.

He also felt like he was home because he felt like he was in danger. When he's on a hunt with Dean, when something could be about to jump them any second, when he has to cut open his skin for blood, that adrenaline rush is home, too.

The only explanation he can think of for how anxious he just was is that he really, really, really did not want to have sex with Dean. He deluded himself into thinking it was worth a try, successfully fooled himself and his brother.

The reward was incredible, he reflects. He'd do a lot to see his brother this happy again. But that was messed up. They are messed up.

He feels dirty. Dirty for trying to buy his brother's continued presence with sex and dirty for using a fantasy to get it up.

Sam has never been too concerned about his personal safety nor his comfort, but he knows better than to put himself through that again. He knows better than to lead Dean into thinking he has something that doesn't exist.

He can't do this again, so now he has a new problem: how does he take away something that made his brother so incredibly happy?


	4. Chapter 4

The morning after their first legitimate night together, Dean wakes up in Sam's bed with a smile.

He's warm and comfortable, everything smells like his brother, and Sam is lying there peacefully, asleep.

He reaches to gently touch Sam's hair. Sam is unconscious and the door is locked, so no one has to know that Dean ever petted his brother's soft, shiny tresses just for the hell of it.

It's a good feeling, to be safe and quiet with his brother.

It's too peaceful, Dean thinks. This is too good to be true—Sam giving him what he did last night and enjoying it.

It was believable when he let Dean give him a blowjob that night because they thought it was the end. It made sense when they drunkenly fooled around on his birthday because the memory is so hazy and so guilt-ridden Dean can't appreciate it. But last night, that was real consent and Sam clearly chose to do it, and he seemed to like it.

Dean has never been as happy as he was last night without it blowing up in his face. Nothing that good lasts for them.

So, the other shoe is gonna drop sooner or later. What's it going to be? How badly will it all end?

Maybe Michael broke through and Dean doesn't remember. This whole thing might just be another dream, from the moment Sam calmly accepted the truth and told him to give in to his fantasy.

If it is, then it's too late. It's been over a month, and if Michael has been in control for a month, then the real Sam out there is dead. Cas, too, and Jack, probably.

Or, maybe Michael has him trapped in a good dream because it's part of some elaborate torture. Maybe Sam actually did it, put Dean into the Ma'lak box and threw him into the ocean.

That isn't something Dean wants to wake up to either, so even though his gut is telling him there's something wrong, he can't go digging. Don't ask questions, don't try to figure out why his brother is doing this. It's better to take it all at face value than wake up and find out he's never going to see Sam again.

This isn't like being poisoned by a djinn or trapped in some other kind of magic coma. There's nothing left to fight for in the real world if this isn't it.

But, as Dean runs his fingers through his brother's hair, this does seem real. Michael is still pounding away at the wall in his head. Sam isn't claiming to have shared the same secret lust Dean has kept hidden. It isn't perfect.

The best case scenario, Dean thinks, is that this is as awesome as it looks, but it's going to end soon, either when he has to get locked in that box or when Michael breaks free and kills everyone. It's best not to think about these being his last weeks with Sam and just enjoy it while it lasts.

§§§

When Sam wakes up, he takes a look at Dean lying next to him, then closes his eyes again as if it will hide him from what happened.

He's completely fucked.

Last night was not the best night of his life, not like it was for Dean, but his brother can't know that. Last night's memory has to stay good and pure—well, pure isn't an option, but at least untainted by the truth.

How does he make Dean believe that it was a good night, that Sam doesn't regret it—because he doesn't—but also let him know that it can't happen again? How does he do that without hurting Dean?

The simple answer is he can't. There's no easy way out of this. It's not a question of _whether_ Sam hurts his brother but _when_.

If he does it now, this morning, then Dean hasn't had time to be happy. Dean hasn't had time to appreciate what happened. It can't be today.

The longer Sam waits, of course, the more it will hurt when he admits the truth. It might tear them apart. Dean isn't the type to get dramatic over rejection, but with everything going on... this might be what pushes him into doing something stupid like sneaking off with that box.

That means Sam has to hide this until after they take care of Michael. He can't risk putting any kind of wedge between them until there's no chance of it resulting in Dean being trapped with an archangel forever.

It sucks, especially when Sam swore to himself he wouldn't lie, but he backed himself into a corner and there's no good way out. There are only bad choices now, and the least evil among them is the one that gives Dean an incentive to stay, instead of a reason to give up. For now, his brother has to believe he has everything to live for.

It's only until they take care of Michael. As soon as the archangel is out of Dean's head, Sam will tell the truth. It gives him a pit in his stomach to think of how much it will hurt his brother, even if Dean understands why, but whatever the fallout is will be better than losing him to Michael.

With that irrefutably bad decision under his belt, Sam has some direction. He-

Someone has started touching his hair.

It has to be Dean because those feel like his brother's fingers and Dean is the only other person in the room, let alone in the bed.

Sam focuses on pretending to be asleep as he marvels at the interaction. Dean is petting him and it feels... good.

It's embarrassing how much Sam likes it, and not even in a sexual way. He could almost forgive himself for having a previously undiscovered fetish but this is just utterly humiliating. He's a thirty-five year old man who defeats nightmares, kills monsters, runs toward danger instead of away, and occasionally even saves the world, but he's perfectly happy to let his brother pet him like a lapdog.

He's also a little embarrassed for Dean, as the instigator. He thinks Sam is asleep. He'd be completely mortified if he knew Sam was awake for this.

This is an awkward situation. Dean probably likes caressing his brother's hair and Sam is alarmed to find he enjoys it, but neither of them are ever going to be able to admit that. They're grown men who only hug if it's the end of the world. They don't do... this. They aren't each other's boyfriend.

Or maybe they are, but even then this isn't sexual; it's almost not even romantic. It's just comfortable.

The sex won't be too bad if he gets this afterwards, Sam thinks. This is nice. He'd let Dean do this weirdly pleasant thing for as long as he wants, no questions asked.

Peaceful minutes pass, then Dean pulls away.

"Good morning," Sam greets once he decides the moment is over.

He opens his eyes to see his brother exactly as horrified as he'd imagined. It makes him smile a little, seeing something familiar and expected when he just woke up naked with his brother.

He waits for a couple seconds, unsure if this is going to be the type of thing where they kiss each other good morning. Dean doesn't make any moves, so Sam sits up and gets out of bed.

"...Morning," Dean finally stammers. Sam has a feeling as he bends down to collect his clothes that he's being watched, that his brother is looking at his naked body.

It doesn't bother him, really. They've grown up walking around naked in motel rooms after a shower—hell, they have to strip down to their briefs to change into their fed suits inside the same car on a weekly basis—so it's nothing Dean hasn't seen a million times before. It's the first time Sam has known with certainty that his brother is appreciating it, though.

Maybe it should creep him out. Maybe he should feel that Dean is a pervert for wanting his own blood, not just his brother but someone he practically raised.

It's been well over a month since Dean admitted to it, and Sam can't find it within himself to have a problem with it or even think it strange. They've always been messed up; they _know_ they'll go too far for each other. It just sucks that for some reason, Dean was cursed with socially unacceptable feelings and Sam was not.

To get his mind off the subject, Sam tries to keep it casual with his brother but without completely abandoning what they did.

"You wanna go out for breakfast? Just the two of us?"

When he looks at Dean, he sees an affectionate expression he didn't know he missed.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

*

At the diner, they end up in a booth a fair distance from any other patrons. Their waitress knows them well enough to wordlessly bring them coffee and put in their usual orders, which means they're essentially alone.

"You good, Sam? You've been kinda quiet."

"Yeah. It's just... this is a big change."

Dean looks somewhat disappointed but unsurprised.

"This doesn't have to be a thing. If it's too weird, I mean..." He scoffs. "I get it. This is a fucked up situation we've got."

Sam shakes his head.

"It's not that."

"It's the guy thing, isn't it?"

It's an out. Sam has to take it.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Well, there's no rules for banging your brother, right?" Dean says, flashing a grin. "Just because we hooked up and we might do it again doesn't mean we have to give up women for the rest of our lives."

"Is that what you want?" Sam asks, finding himself strangely upset by the idea.

His brother sidesteps the question:

"I don't have a problem with it if you don't. We'll figure this out as we go along, right?"

"Right. Right," Sam agrees. He's unsure what his brother is getting at, but he'll take it. "One day at a time."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This mess of a chapter takes place before and after 14x14 Ouroboros.

"DEAN!"

Sam's awoken by his own panicked shout. Panting and covered in cold sweat, he sits up in the dark.

Hold it together.

He was driving the Impala, in the dream. He was being chased by a monster, something that could move faster than the car could go but he didn't have a choice, all he could do was slam his foot down on the gas.

Hold it together, Sam.

The car ran out of gas and died. The thing caught up and that's when Sam realized it was his brother he was running from. Just Dean. Nothing possessing him or taking his form. Actually Dean.

And yet, Sam cried out in terror.

Hold. It. Together.

He hears his brother's footsteps in the hallway.

"Sammy?" Dean pushes the door open.

"I'm fine, Dean. Sorry if I woke you."

"Wasn't asleep." Dean tiptoes in, closing the door. "You sure you're alright?"

"No," Sam scoffs.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." What would he say? That he's starting to think that he'll have to keep the promise he only made because he was so sure that they would find another way? That it's been weeks since he fell asleep without having a drink or two first? That his mind has gone from quick and clever to being run ragged by anxious thoughts?

"I'll let you get back to sleep," Dean says.

"Stay." After a moment, Sam pats the bed lightly.

Dean crawls under the covers, seemingly unsure of whether to make a move. It's been close to a month since they became "a thing" and all of their encounters in that time have been well-communicated and telegraphed in well-lit rooms. Now it's dark, the potential for spontaneity high.

Sam finds himself hoping that his brother won't ask for anything, because he can't say no.

What's horrible is that his inability to reject his brother it isn't just a fear of disappointing Dean, or fear of letting him down, but a new craving Sam's discovered in himself.

It's weird, because he still doesn't have a sexual interest in it, and he feels like a pervert for enjoying it, but there's something deeply satisfying about making his brother come. He loves to see it, to know that he caused his brother pleasure.

Even though he dreads the sexual act itself, has had to spend hours conditioning himself to seem like he wants and enjoys it, that moment when Dean hits climax is compelling.

Maybe it's because while they're touching each other, part of Sam feels dead inside. He loves and needs his brother; he's doing this because he's afraid if he does anything else he'll lose Dean, but having sex with someone he has no sexual attraction to... it's almost like being soulless. Back then it was the opposite problem, he was sleeping with any woman who was interested because any healthy human with a pussy and tits was good enough for him. He felt no emotional attachment. Now all he has is an emotional attachment, so maybe he's becoming addicted to seeing his brother having an orgasm because it's the only part of it that feels right.

Whatever it is, he is truly sick.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"You remember a few years back, when I had the Mark of Cain, and you told me if I ever needed to talk, you were right next to me?"

Sam does remember, driving them home after Dean had spent a while in confession to draw out a ghost they were hunting.

"Yeah. What's up?"

"What am I supposed to do when what I need to talk about is the last thing you wanna be thinking about?"

Sam tries to tell himself that he has a right to refuse, that he's giving so much of himself sleeping with Dean there's no reason to subject himself to this, too, but it doesn't work.

"I can't promise to say what you wanna hear, but I can listen," he says.

"'Kay."

Sam waits, expecting his brother to continue.

"...And?" he prods.

"You wanna do this now?"

"Yeah. Talk to me."

Dean sighs and after a few seconds, explains:

"If this ends the way we know it could end, if I'm stuck with Michael forever, I wanna go down believing that you're gonna be okay."

He won't be, Sam thinks. He really won't. Even if he thought he was, he'd be tempted to say no because he's selfish and doesn't want to encourage Dean to leave.

But he remembers jumping into Hell honestly not knowing whether Dean was going to make it out of that graveyard. He can still remember Lucifer taunting him, showing him Dean's broken and bloodied form leaning against the car, dead because Sam didn't stop in time. As the years had passed in the Cage, he started to think he _had_ killed his brother, because what else would stop Dean from trying to break him out? Not a reluctant promise.

He wouldn't wish that uncertainty on Dean, but he has no idea how to reassure his brother when he can't even accept that this might not go their way.

"I won't have a choice. Jack and Cas will need me to be okay," Sam says eventually. "Mom will need me to be okay."

"That's all I need, Sam. To know that you're gonna be okay, if that's what happens."

Fighting back tears, Sam holds his brother in the dark. When he thinks about losing Dean, tries to acknowledge a future where his brother is trapped at the bottom of the ocean forever, all he can think-

"I'd rather die," he chokes out before he can stop himself. "I'm sorry, Dean, I can't-"

Dean starts to pet him, the completely pure gesture of stroking Sam's hair.

"I know, Sam."

*

Oddly enough, Sam wakes up the next morning feeling somewhat rested.

He tries to tell himself it wasn't because they skipped the sex and he cried himself to sleep holding onto Dean. It's not because he also woke up alone and didn't start his day with an undesired potential sexual encounter. It's not because what he's doing to himself and his brother is messed up in ten different directions.

Just a coincidence, he insists over and over in his head.

***

There are a lot of bodies to burn after Michael's bunker massacre, and a lot of blood to clean up.

Maggie's death is the most painful to Sam, after she went from a frightened refugee to a hunter and leader in her own right. She came to their world to escape Michael, got both murdered and resurrected by Lucifer, and the former killed her anyway.

After the smoke dies down, the five of them—Sam, Dean, Cas, Jack, Rowena—head back into the bunker and split up. The humans need showers, the witch wants to leave, and the angelic beings need to have a talk about souls.

Sam should be the one to talk to Jack about not having a soul, but what would the point be? He's glad Jack did what he did. It saved Dean—it saved all of them. Literally everyone.

"Hey Sam," Dean says once they're out of even supernatural earshot. "Come to my room after you shower."

That's when Sam remembers it's over. He can stop lying to his brother, stop pretending, stop suffering.

But maybe one last time...

"I'll be there."

"I wanna jump you when you come in. Take you by surprise."

It takes Sam a second to realize his brother is asking permission.

"Fine by me."

*

Freshly showered and forcibly sexually frustrated, Sam knocks on his brother's door before opening it.

"Dean?"

Dean was hiding behind the door; he smoothly closes it and shoves Sam up against the wall for a kiss.

Sam doesn't know if the adrenaline rush, the suppressed fight-or-flight response is what drives it, but he instinctively pushes back, displays a sexual aggression he's never felt with his brother before.

Dean stumbles back, both shocked and more aroused than Sam's ever seen him. He isn't sure what the game is here.

"You said you'd jump me, you didn't ask what I would do," Sam points out.

"Guess you're taking me by surprise tonight, huh, Sammy?"

Sam takes a step forward and shoves Dean back onto his bed. He's not sure what's come over him; this violence, forcefulness between them seems to have opened a door or flipped a switch in his head.

He thinks he might actually _want_ to do this.

His brother is lying on the bed, looking up at him, lips parted. He starts to touch himself through his sweats like he can't help himself, like the sight of Sam standing over him, visibly aroused himself, is just too much.

Dean swallows hard and forces his hands back to his sides, then spreads his legs slowly, presenting the obscene tenting of his sweatpants to Sam.

"Now that Michael's gone, we can do this for real."

"What do you mean?"

"Take me."

"Take you?"

"Fuck me in the ass."

Sam barely knows what to say. They've never gone beyond handjobs and blowjobs. This is a new level of intimacy, one that he realistically knew they might reach but never prepared himself for.

It's one last time, he thinks. After tonight, he won't have to do it ever again.

"There's, uh, some... prepwork involved in that, isn't there?"

"Got myself ready in the shower," Dean informs him. He nods at the table next to his bed. "A little lube, you could take me right now."

Feeling dazed, Sam retrieves the small bottle. He's done this with a couple women, so it isn't completely uncharted territory, but to actually be inside his brother like that...

"How do you wanna do this?" he asks as they each take off their clothes.

"Whatever you're good with."

"I don't- Whatever's safest, I guess."

"Safest?" Dean's tone is mocking, derisive.

Sam tries to think of a tactful and non-moodkilling way of explaining that he knows what it's like to have an archangel sodomize him until his internal organs prolapse. He doesn't want to hurt his brother, that's all.

Dean seems to figure out that it's a serious subject for his little brother and drops it.

"I trust you, Sam. Whatever you wanna do, we'll make it work."

"...Lie down. On your back."

Dean lies there naked, head propped up against the pillows and his cock rigid in the air.

Sam kneels between his legs and applies lube to both himself and his brother.

Is he really going to do this? Fuck his brother, knowing it will never happen again? This is like taking advantage of Dean, using him.

But it's what Dean wants.

"You ready?" he asks.

"Yeah."

Sam slowly guides his cock into his brother's ass. It's almost... nostalgic.

"I feel like I'm losing my virginity again," he confesses.

"Which time?" Dean asks with a grin.

"The first time."

Sam is fully inside; Dean wraps his legs around his waist and pulls him down onto his chest.

Dean kisses him hard, and Sam reciprocates with even more force. He wraps his arms around Dean and holds him tightly.

Just hours ago, he thought that he was going to have to lock Dean's unconscious body into the box. When his brother didn't wake up, he knew exactly what Dean would tell him to do, and that it was still impossible. He still couldn't let go. He can't.

"You didn't spend your whole first time getting laid just hugging her, right?" Dean asks.

"Shut up." Sam carefully pulls out a few inches and then slides back in. "You good?"

"Not my first rodeo. This is all you."

He thrusts again, changing his angle slightly. He'll know when he gets it right; he's done his fair share of experimentation on himself in the past.

"Hey, Sam, your first time... did you finish the girl?"

"Why are you asking?" He puts a little more force into it when he drives his hips forward again.

"Just curious."

Sam tells the shameful truth:

"No. I, uh... couldn't find it."

Dean chuckles.

"Hope you'll find it this time."

Sam adjusts his position and tries again. He sees Dean's eyes shut, mouth open in a soft gasp. There it is.

"Think I just did."

He lets his downstairs brain do most of the thinking after that. Dean rolls his hips into his thrusts, the two of them finding a rhythm together.

There's a severe disconnection between the sensations Sam is feeling. He's still getting a kind of rush, excitement from being shoved against the wall at the beginning and pushing back, and now using his entire body to pleasure his brother. Every time he thrusts he's hitting the sweet spot and Dean's face is inches from his, in complete bliss.

For once, he's not wishing it was over. He likes this, what is happening right now, and he doesn't feel like he's in danger. He and Dean are safe and together. He can look his brother in the eyes and see home, pleasure, joy. He isn't afraid of slipping up and letting his true feelings show, because his true feelings are that he wants to do this to his brother and make him happy.

He slows down and touches his brother's face. It's their last time, but Dean doesn't know it. This has to fulfill every fantasy Sam can possibly act out. Dean has to feel every bit of love and need there is between them so he understands why when he finds out the truth.

"Still good?"

"Was better when you were going faster."

"I mean it. I want this to be as close to perfect as possible."

Dean studies his face. It's hard to look suspicious while being fucked, but it's clear to Sam that his brother is wondering why.

"This _is_ perfect, Sam. I don't know what's with you tonight but I like it."

"What d'you mean?"

"You're fucking me like... you mean it."

"I've never fucked you before, you can't compare it to anything."

"...Guess not."

Sam rewards his brother's choice to let it go by speeding up again, and going harder.

Dean moans underneath him.

"Sammy," he gasps, eyes falling shut. "Sam."

The sound of his name from Dean's mouth when Dean is so very close to coming... it does things to Sam, drives him to a frantic pace. He has to take his brother to the very top. He has to see Dean at the pinnacle of physical happiness one more time.

"Come for me, Dean."

His brother's hands, clinging to his back, suddenly grab Sam's face, dragging it down for a violent kiss.

Sam feels it in more than one way when his brother goes over the edge. The muffled groan reverberates through his mouth; the muscles in Dean's body clench around his cock, and it's no longer just sweat slicking the way where their bodies are rubbing together.

"Don't stop, Sam," Dean pleads, once again holding him close.

Sam keeps going, even when he feels Dean's cock going soft between them, when it has to be hurting him like hell. His brother told him not to stop.

"Dean." He's almost there and he has never actually liked being with his brother this much before, for himself. He's never felt like he was making love with Dean before, even though it's the only reason he did any of it.

"Oh, _shit,_ " he groans when the sheer pleasure of it takes him by surprise. Release, relief, everything an orgasm is supposed to be. "Dean." He doesn't know how to process this, that he just fucked his brother and he liked it. "God..."

He pulls out and flops down next to Dean, panting.

"That was awesome," he says, for lack of a better term. He actually had fun. He's refreshed emotionally as well as physically. Who cares if he has come smeared on his stomach; he just had good sex.

"That's my line."

"So you agree with me."

"Yeah, awesome." Dean pauses and then adds, "Going out with a bang. Literally."

Sam frowns.

"Going out?"

Dean is casual, turns and looks at Sam.

"This was our last time together, wasn't it?"

Sam almost denies it. He almost makes the same mistake he did before, almost renews the lie he's been selling to his brother.

Then he almost plays dumb, leaving it open so he can make up his mind another day.

But the plan was tell Dean once Michael wasn't a threat. The archangel is gone now. It's time.

"...How'd you know?"

"When you said you wanted it to be perfect, and when I realized you were actually enjoying it this time, which means you weren't the other times."

"Dean, I can explain."

"You don't need to explain yourself. It's fine. I knew this wouldn't last."

"What?"

"Sammy, there was no way we could both be that happy together. If this is how it ends, us talking in bed, that's better than what I thought was gonna happen."

"But I lied, Dean. I led you on and made you think we had something when I knew we didn't."

"We still have something, right? Just not that."

It's perplexing to Sam that his brother is taking it so well.

"Well, yeah. We're still brothers."

"Then why would I care that we're not hooking up?"

"Because you were happier than I'd seen you in years, and because I lied."

"Sam, I'm happy driving in that car with you next to me. This was great while it lasted, but if you don't really want me that way, I don't want it, either."

He hadn't thought it possible to feel worse about the situation, but that was before his brother acted like he'd been expecting this. He's not sure if he's saddened by Dean's pessimism or hurt because it's like they had a fling instead of... whatever they had.

"What do you want me to say, Sam?" Dean presses. "I get why you did it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. You thought you'd give it a try, and you didn't like it, but you didn't wanna tell me because we already had enough on our plates. I thought you were into it because I didn't know any better."

Sam allows his silence be his concession. It's not wrong, even if it's not the whole truth.

Dean sighs.

"That was a dumb thing to do, Sam, but I'm not gonna complain that my brother who found out I had feelings for him slept with me instead of holding an exorcism."

Not knowing what to say, Sam gets out of bed and puts on his clothes. Something is missing. Pain, maybe. He was expecting to feel Dean's disapproval or anger, but instead he received understanding.

He wanted a fight. He wanted his brother to resist, or at least have questions.

Most of him is relieved that he will never again have to pretend to want someone he isn't attracted to, or be touched by someone he doesn't really want to be touched by.

Part of him wants to get back onto the bed and hold his brother again, hear his name whispered, in the scant hope that he'll get that rush again, that thrill that made him want what Dean wants.

When he spares a glance at Dean, still lying on the bed, he sees an expression on his brother's face that he can only describe as "dead inside."

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? I said I get it. I woulda done the same thing."

Dean can't really be taking this as well as he's pretending to, Sam thinks.

But there's nothing else to say, is there? Except...

"I'm sorry I lied. But don't walk away from this thinking I regret what I did. I felt like I was making you happy."

"You were."

It should be reassuring to hear that, but instead Dean's monotone is like a knife to the gut.

Sam leaves his brother alone and returns to his own bedroom.

The door shuts behind him and he looks between his bed, which offers some combination of rest and stewing in his own frustration and pain, and his laptop, which might offer a job, a distraction, a reason to get away from the bunker.

People he cared about are dead. Jack might have lost his soul. He's hurt his brother.

Laptop it is. If Sam can't help the people closest to him, which seems to be the case, he can try to help others.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14x15 Peace Of Mind

Sam starts to miss it.

It takes him four jobs, being brainwashed by a psychic, and admitting to Dean that he just doesn't want to be in the bunker to realize that he misses what they were doing. Some of it, at least.

He misses being physically close to his brother. Although it only happened a couple times, he misses waking up next to Dean, usually with one of their arms around the other. As adults, they've never done a lot of cuddling or touching, but after they crossed that line... Sam can hardly believe he never noticed before how much he wants that.

Not intimacy, not sex. Just being close, feeling each other breathe, hearing his brother's heartbeat.

Sam's bedroom is so quiet. He's lying awake in bed, mind racing. Dean. Jack's soul. Maggie and all the other hunters, murdered because he couldn't let go of his brother.

He told Dean he didn't care who or what they lost as long as they were together, and if this was the only way to save Dean from being trapped with Michael forever then he'd make all the same choices again, but it still hurts.

When his brain starts replaying the words Lucifer once said to him about Sam and Dean always choosing each other— _"no matter how many innocent people die!"_ —he gives up trying to sleep and gets out of bed.

He barely knows why, but his feet take him to Dean's room.

It's probably a mistake, but he knocks on the door.

"It's me," he says softly before trying the knob. Locked. He hears his brother get up and unlock the door before opening it wide.

Dean is concerned.

"What's up?"

"Can I-" What does Sam want? He doesn't know. Some peace of mind? He could've just had a drink. "...Would it be weird- Well, would it be _too_ weird for you if I slept here tonight? ...With you."

His brother thinks on it for a moment and shrugs.

"Make yourself at home."

Quietly, Sam gets into his brother's bed and settles in. Dean hesitantly joins him.

"Something you wanna talk about?" he asks.

"I said I just needed time," Sam insists.

Dean backs off:

"Okay."

After a moment, Sam shuffles a little closer to Dean and rests his head against his brother's shoulder. This is much better than his room, he thinks. His mind settles down.

It's also much better than the other times they've lain in bed together, and Sam realizes it's because he didn't just put himself through something difficult and uncomfortable. He's not semi-traumatized this time. He's just troubled, which admittedly he is most of the time, but now that he's close to Dean, some of the stress is melting away.

No matter what he's lost, he still has Dean. No matter what his failures are, whatever mistakes he makes, his brother is here. For the moment, he is secure in the belief that nothing is coming to take either of them away from the other.

As Sam closes his eyes, Dean reaches over and smooths his hair back. After a second of hesitation, he repeats the movement, stroking Sam's hair.

This again.

Again, Sam is torn between utter humiliation and liking what's happening. It seems so wrong, like it should feel demeaning or creepy, but he loves the sensation and he loves that Dean is the one doing it. This is pure; this is just being brothers.

God, he really is a freak for enjoying this so much, being... petted. Technically it isn't incest and it wouldn't be out of place if they were very small children, but adult siblings just don't do this kind of thing.

Well, Sam thinks, if he and Dean are playing by their own rules, then maybe they do. If his brother could stand being so close every night without going further, then this is exactly what Sam wants.

At least... he thinks it is.

He drifts off to sleep feeling less troubled but with more questions on his mind than before.

*

When Sam opens his eyes in the morning, he's surprised again at how peaceful it is.

Dean is asleep, partly on top of him. His weight is grounding, a source of security rather than a feeling of being restrained.

Could this happen again, Sam wonders to himself. Could they do this regularly, just spend the night in each other's beds with no questions asked? Without sex?

No, he thinks. That can't happen because _he_ doesn't like the idea of never being with Dean like that again. He was giving something to his brother that no one else could, and he loved the feeling he got when his brother reached climax. It was... rewarding.

Maybe he's the one who can't be physically close to his brother. All he can think about is Dean waking up right now and asking Sam to touch him, and he'd say yes because even if he doesn't care for the journey there, he craves the destination. Whether it was Dean coming hard groaning Sam's name, or just Dean exhaling sharply as he finds release, it gave Sam a rush or a high that he doesn't know how to describe.

He almost feels like an addict again. He knew demon blood was poison and he told himself he hated drinking it because, well, he did, but he thought he needed to, and it gave him a power trip.

No, how can he compare this with something as evil as demon blood? Sex with Dean isn't wrong, it's just... not what he wants.

Except that one time he did. The last time.

"Morning," Dean mumbles into Sam's shoulder suddenly.

"...Good morning."

His brother lifts his head and looks at Sam.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good. Better than I have in a while."

Sam almost reaches out to touch his brother's face. They could do this right now, and he would get to feel that... sensation again.

Please, he thinks, ask. Ask him so he can say yes and do it even though he'll probably wish it was over as soon as it starts, just like all the other times. Ask, Dean, so that Sam can give, and hear praise, feel approval from the person he cares about most.

His brother is staring at him and he must be thinking about the same thing, what they could share.

"Dean-" He's breathless and doesn't know what to say anyway. They don't need words; something needs to _happen_.

Sam has to make it happen, he realizes.

He leans over and kisses Dean softly, closing his eyes and waiting for his brother to react after their lips part.

Dean exhales sharply and closes the fraction of an inch between them to return the kiss.

Without thinking much about it, Sam rolls them over, Dean on his back underneath him. It doesn't matter if Sam is physically interested in it; his morning wood makes it seem like he is. He just wants to be with his brother again, watch his stress melt away, watch him relax.

He whispers into Dean's ear:

"Let me touch you."

Dean gives a little gasp and Sam feels his cock twitch against his thigh.

"That seems like a yes."

"Sam, I want you to, but..."

"But what?"

"You don't want this."

"Trust me when I say that right now, right here, I want to make you come."

His brother closes his eyes.

"Okay. Yes. ...Please."

Sam pulls his brother's sweatpants down and licks his hand before wrapping it around Dean's cock. He strokes it gently, watching Dean's face.

"I missed this, Dean," he confesses. "I missed touching you because I love seeing you relaxed, happy. I couldn't forget how it feels to do this to you."

Dean's hips roll a bit, like he's fucking Sam's hand.

"I'm not gonna last."

After a moment of thought, the younger brother pauses.

"Dean, I'm gonna suck you, but you gotta tell me when you're almost there so I can watch your face when you come."

Sam feels his brother's pre-come drip onto his thumb.

"Forget about sucking me off, Sammy, just keep talking."

Sam's hand starts to move again.

"So you don't want my mouth on your cock? You don't want to feel my tongue on that spot just below the head?"

"God, Sam..."

"You don't want me to taste you?"

Dean makes a soft noise close to a whimper as he hits climax. Sam can feel come running down his fingers but he only has eyes for his brother's face, in that moment of pure physical pleasure.

This is it; this is what he wants. This feeling of being what his brother secretly wanted for probably longer than Sam knows, having the power to make his brother feel good and exercising it as his will.

It's a power trip, he realizes. That's why he wants his brother to ask, to feel like he has a choice, when the truth is he doesn't know if he has a choice.

It's something of a conundrum. Sam can't say no to his brother but he wants to think he does, even though he can't think of a good reason to say no. It doesn't matter what he wants or doesn't want; he can make his brother fall apart in bliss.

Sam sits up, straddling his brother, feeling completely satisfied, but then Dean's hands come to rest on his hips. It's obvious what's supposed to come next—well, _who's_ supposed to come next.

This is the moment he becomes truly torn. Dean wouldn't want him to say yes out of fear of disappointing him—though it isn't fear, it's just a deep aversion.

But he doesn't think he wants to be touched. If he's actually turned on by anything right now it's talking about getting a blowjob. He could get out of Dean's bed now and be happy. He did everything he wanted to do, got the completion he craved.

"Sammy." There it is, Dean looking up at him. He's expecting consent. Of course Sam will consent; he just jerked him off. Of course Sam will want the favor returned. Of course Sam will let his brother touch him.

It's simple: say no thanks and walk away. It's what Dean did that night in the cabin.

But... Dean will be upset, maybe hurt. He's expecting something of Sam.

The magnetic pull of Dean's expectations is too strong. Sam can't make himself say no. He can't disappoint his brother.

He nods— _yes, Dean._

Dean doesn't move. He's studying Sam's face.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Sam."

"If you want to do it-"

"Do you want me to?" Dean asks.

Lying is just so much easier than telling the truth.

"Yeah."

"You sure?" He can sense Sam's reluctance.

"...Could you use your mouth?"

Dean falls for it. The confident edge is back in his voice when he responds:

"Make yourself comfortable."

Sam's relief might come off as a response to having his shy request granted, but it's mostly because there's no chance of betraying himself if Dean's not looking at his face.

*

Sam and Dean are lying together on the bed afterwards. Dean's hand is over Sam's heart.

It wasn't bad, Sam tells himself, but he feels a little numb.

Maybe it's the crushing weight of guilt from lying to his brother again. And worse, Dean will blame himself when he finds out. He'll think it's his fault that Sam is so fucked up in the head he can't say no.

In the hopes of relieving some of the emotional pressure, Sam decides to come clean about something else. Maybe it'll even sabotage this, stop it from going further or getting worse.

"I have to confess something."

"Yeah?"

"When I first suggested this, I was... bribing you. To keep you from even thinking about using that box."

He listens to Dean take a few calm breaths before answering:

"That's what I thought."

"But now I know what it's like to be with you, and wake up next to you. And that's..."

"Awesome," his brother supplies.

Sam smiles at his brother. It is.

Dean smiles back, but it's hiding something. Uncertainty.

"You okay?"

"...Yeah, Sam. Just wondering how long this will last."

Sam wishes he had an argument, that he could honestly say he thinks this can go on forever, but it can't. Not if what just happened is how it's going to be.

"What happened to 'we've got tonight, who needs tomorrow'?" he asks Dean.

That makes his brother laugh a little, but Sam is starting to really hate himself. He couldn't resist temptation and now he's setting them up for disappointment again.

Yeah, knocking on Dean's door last night was a mistake.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In retrospect, the last chapter was very meh. I apologize.)
> 
> 14x16 Don't Go In The Woods

After the job in Iowa shows how badly a father lying to a son could have ended, the Winchesters come clean with Jack about their concerns. Being on the same page with him is reassuring to Sam, and gives him enough courage to be honest with his brother.

After Dean comes back from his beer run, Sam corners him.

"We have to talk."

*

Sam takes his brother to the dungeon out of fear that Jack might somehow overhear them anywhere else.

"We're not about to get kinky, are we?" Dean asks, though it's clear he knows what this is about.

"No, I just need to be honest with you about what I want, and what I don't want."

Dean looks like he's dreading the coming words.

"Everything I said I missed, I did miss, and I want those things. Waking up next to you, touching you... I can't imagine giving that up."

"...But?" Dean prompts.

"When you asked if I wanted you to touch me... I didn't. I don't. I enjoyed it that one time, but... you're right. _We_ can't have that. But you can."

Dean frowns.

"What are you suggesting, exactly?"

"I'll do anything you want, but when it comes to me... don't."

"Sam, either we do this right, or we don't do it. That's not right."

"Okay." Sam only realizes then that he would rather they do it "wrong" than never share that with Dean again, but his brother isn't interested in one-sided sex.

Neither of them can have what they want, and that's it.

"But, uh, I wouldn't mind if you still slept in my room sometimes," Dean adds casually.

Sam is perplexed but hopeful.

"You want that?"

"As long as you don't start anything you're not gonna finish." He shrugs. "I like having my own space, but we both sleep better when we can hear each other breathing."

He's not wrong, Sam thinks.

"Even if we never-"

"Yes. And I don't care what it'll look like to everyone else. We know what it is."

Sam nods, his heart finally feeling lighter.

"Alright."

*

It seems like everything should be great—Sam and Dean share a bed as often as not, no one is doing anything they're uncomfortable doing, and the world isn't ending.

They're making no attempt the hide the fact that they sleep in each other's rooms occasionally, but Cas and Jack aren't saying anything. No one else knows yet.

The Winchesters have found a little bit of peace for the first time in what feels like years. There's no apocalypse hanging over their heads, no archangels threatening the planet, no Leviathans or Brits trying to take over, no imminent demon deals or curses threatening them. They can go back to saving people and hunting things that they actually know how to kill.

Although the situation with Jack and his soul or lack thereof is bothering both of them, and Sam is still plagued by memories of the hunters that were slaughtered in the war room and the library, on the nights he or Dean slips into the other's bed, he knows things will be okay.

He still has his brother—he has _more_ of his brother, because they've learned to touch each other, glean comfort and strength from physical contact instead of avoiding it because brothers aren't supposed to seek that out. Having committed incest, it's easy to disregard the unnecessary boundaries society set between them. It really doesn't matter if only sexual partners are supposed to share a bed; they want to sleep next to each other and it doesn't mean a damn thing.

All that matters is that they're together, and they are. If they've got each other, then everything else will work out. It always has.

*

"There's something I've gotta confess," Dean says one night as they curl up together.

"...I'm listening."

"The time I woke up in your room with a hickey, and I said I didn't remember what happened? I did."

"Why'd you lie?"

"I didn't want you to know, if you didn't remember yourself." There's both shame and a sense of protectiveness in Dean's voice, like there's blame to place and he's trying to keep it off Sam.

"What happened, Dean? What did I do?"

"No, it's not what you did. _You_ were plastered. I was helping you to your room, you pulled me down on the bed, and... made an offer."

"Dean, I'm sorry-"

"No, it isn't on you. You were so far gone, I had to say no, so I pushed you away and got up again. You said you wanted to just that once 'cause it was my birthday. At the time I still thought I was gonna go down in that box, so... I let myself be selfish again. Just like that night in the cabin." Dean sighs, and finishes, "Told myself I only did it because you were begging me to let you, but you weren't, and I knew better, Sam. I knew better, but I chose to get back on that bed. I'm sorry."

Sam takes that in. Neither of them is completely to blame, seeing as Dean wasn't sober enough to consent either—he couldn't have been since he wasn't sober enough to bother closing the door—but his brother is shouldering the responsibility, as usual. He's acting like he took advantage of Sam.

Dean continues:

"All I'm tryna say is don't feel bad about 'bribing' me or whatever to keep me out of that box. I deserved it, and worse."

"Well... thank you. For telling me the truth," Sam says eventually. He's relieved to have an explanation for what happened. They both did things they shouldn't have, things they wouldn't have done sober, things they never would have done to anyone else.

"Are we good?"

"Yeah. We are pathologically bad at saying no to each other when we should," Sam points out, "but we're good. ...Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean replies, his relief spreading to the younger brother.

*

Things start to get weird after a couple weeks.

Sam finds himself thinking about what he and his brother used to do. He's craving that unique fulfillment again, that high he gets from bringing his brother to climax.

Probably he's just horny, he thinks. He needs to take some time for himself.

*

He feels guilty going into the porn folder on his computer, like he's cheating on his brother. It's the first time he's done this without the goal of conditioning himself for sex with Dean since, what, December? Ever since he and Dean started sleeping together, euphemistically speaking, Sam forced himself to fantasize about his brother while touching himself, and would always stop just before coming. It made it a lot easier to get it up when it was time.

He hasn't done this since they started only literally sleeping together. Now, he can watch or think about whatever he wants and best of all, actually finish.

He picks something at random, though he realizes almost as soon as the video starts playing that this particular adult film he doesn't even remember downloading is one featuring "Carmelita," though when he met her a few years ago, she went by Suzy.

Something feels wrong about jerking off to someone who's now a chastity counselor, and it's weirder still knowing that his brother had sex with her, but Sam decides to watch it anyway. Where is he going to find a higher moral ground in pornography?

He takes off his shirts and unzips his jeans like usual. The man currently flirting with Carmelita looks nothing like Dean but that doesn't stop Sam from imagining his brother in the actor's place.

Rather than try to shove the thoughts away, Sam simply ignores them. He watches the screen, appreciating the visual of Carmelita's co-star kissing his way down to her breasts, barely contained in her clothes, then tugging her shirt down to expose them.

He palms himself as the actors strip, still ignoring mental images of his brother's mouth on the woman's body and the fact that he knows from experience what Dean sounds like when someone grinds against his cock the way Carmelita is grinding against her partner. Fighting those thoughts won't make them go away. Sam is an expert at ignoring intrusive thoughts, and these aren't actually distressing ones. They're just not ones he wants to have right now.

Carmelita is getting head from her partner; Sam licks his hand and starts to stroke himself, imagining the taste of her, what he'd do to her with his tongue. ...What Dean probably did to her. Sam has kissed a mouth that's done this to her, and that's fucking hot, that his brother's tongue was on her, in her, and then was in Sam's mouth. Years apart, of course, but god... It's a shame he never thought of that when they were together, never got off on the idea of being with Dean right after he was with a woman, sex with her by proxy.

Maybe he shouldn't ignore the alternate path his mind is taking. It's the point of self-indulgence, right? If the thought of pulling Dean from between Carmelita's thighs and licking the juices from his lips takes him higher, then accept it. Sam closes his eyes and lets his imagination fill in details. His brother would be into that; it would be Dean's hand working his hard length as they kiss. This time Sam wouldn't mind because he's so turned on he _needs_ friction, not to mention Dean would be getting so much pleasure out of doing it. Sam would return the favor, naturally, maybe after fingering Carmelita to slick up his fingers. That somehow gets him even more excited, Dean's cock wet from her pussy.

The sounds coming from the computer tell Sam that Carmelita is currently being fucked, and he lets his brain tell him that it's Dean, that his brother's cock is sliding in and out of her body, thrusting and thrusting until he gets close.

But that's not how he wants Dean to finish. He doesn't want Dean coming inside someone else, from someone else. Only Sam gets to make that happen. Dean should pull out, then Sam would suck him- no, he wants to see Dean's face, he'd use his hand. He'd wrap his hand around that wet cock and watch his brother's expression as he hits the point of no return, then hear that groan of ultimate pleasure when Dean comes.

Sam almost groans himself at the thought, though he isn't finished just yet. He brings his mind back to the idea of Dean's cock pumping in and out of Carmelita. He doesn't know what Dean looks like when he fucks women, but he can imagine it easily, Dean's entire body thrusting.

He's suddenly envious of every woman who's ever been fucked by Dean. They got to have something he hasn't. Dean moving in and out, sweating, cursing when he gets close, kissing his partner after he comes inside them, and yes, Sam would let his brother come inside him. He wants to experience Dean in every way and he didn't get that.

It would probably feel amazing. Sam knows what a little fingering can do to him, so he can imagine feeling his brother's cock pressing against that spot. Once he was used to the feeling of something like that, something so large inside his body, he'd tell Dean to go for it, and he'd get that wave of pleasure with every thrust. Maybe it'll even feel good enough for him to beg his brother for more, faster, harder, don't stop, good enough for him to whisper every cliched plea.

Even if it didn't feel incredible, even if it hurt, Sam would get to feel it more intimately than ever when Dean is almost there, their bodies nearer than ever before as his brother hits the point of no return. He'd get to wrap his arms around Dean, feel his heat and weight, kiss him with eyes open.

Sam bites his lip to stifle a moan as he gets close. He wants it, he has to know what it feels like for his brother to be inside him. He has to know what it's like to have Dean come while they're as close as two living human beings can physically be.

He leans back in the chair, spreading his legs slightly. The only thought left in his head as he frantically jacks himself is the idea of his brother's face as he thrusts into Sam. The only way Dean could enjoy it more...

_"Sammy, come for me."_

"Dean," he whispers just before he hits climax, gasping sharply and closing his eyes as come spills over his fist.

He lets go of his cock and sits there panting for a few seconds, simply appreciating how refreshed his entire body now is. Even his mind is calm, which it really shouldn't be considering he doesn't know what the hell he just masturbated to.

*

By nighttime, Sam is back to ruminating. He can't think of anything else as he lies in bed alone. Part of him wants to take it out on Dean, this new internal conflict, so it's best to avoid his brother for now.

Sam is secure in his sexuality; if he happens to be into one particular man then that doesn't mean he's not heterosexual. But how the hell did this happen? How did Sam go from not wanting to be touched to... whatever happened a few hours ago?

He could blame Dean. Dean told Sam the truth and that sent them down the slippery slope of dishonesty and psychologically dysfunctional sexual encounters. This is all Dean's fault because he brought it up, right?

No. Even if it is partly on Dean, Sam is the one who made it a thing instead of forgetting about it, because after a lifetime with Dean, after everything, he couldn't leave it alone. He wanted to be everything for his brother and he couldn't; what he is now is sexually disorientated.

He messed himself up, so he's going to have to deal with this himself. Dean can't be subjected to his confusion anymore. It's unfair to put his brother through the same roller coaster ride of attraction and disinterest that Sam is going through.

Ironic, he reflects, that now he has to hide his feelings from Dean when he's supposed to be the straight one of the two of them.

In time, he'll figure out what he wants. Maybe these feelings will go away, or Sam will figure out a rhyme and reason to his desires. Or maybe this is the beginning of something, and it's going to turn into Sam and Dean having everything they could ever want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously the plot/conflict here is running its course, so there will be between 1 and 4 more chapters depending on canon events. I'm having a lot of fun with this project and wanted to do it for the rest of the season, but I don't want it to turn into "here's some PWP set during or after this week's episode."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14x19 - 14x20
> 
> Canon events messed up my planned ending, so this chapter is mostly to let readers know that the story won't be continued/finished until this fall.

Tomorrow, the bunker will be filled with hunters again. People who knew and cared about Mary Winchester will gather to remember her, talk about her.

Dean hasn't shared a bed with Sam since before they lost Mom, and he doesn't really want to now, either. He'd rather be alone, but his brother probably needs it.

He finds Sam's door cracked open, and wonders if it's been like that every night, if Sam's been waiting for him.

He slips inside and closes the door.

"Dean?" Sam turns on the lamp next to the bed.

"Hey." Dean sees there's even a pillow waiting for him, so he gets under the blanket and wordlessly puts an arm around his little brother.

Sam turns his head. He's looking at Dean like he wants something but knows he can't have it.

"What?" Dean demands in a tone he immediately regrets when he sees his brother's face.

"Nothing." Sam turns over, facing away from Dean.

Not talking has always been easier than talking for Dean, so he leaves it alone. His brother seems too far away, so he shuffles over and curls up behind him, tugging Sam's body lower so his head can nestle underneath Dean's chin.

It helps, feeling the warmth of Sam's body against his, hearing him breathe.

They've lost Mom. They've as good as lost Jack. They've only got each other and Cas left now.

But nothing is going to happen to Sam, Dean tells himself. He will not let anything happen to Sam. He won't lose his brother again. Ever.

*

In the morning, Dean finds himself partly underneath his brother.

It's comforting to have Sam so close—and alive—when the first thing he thought of when he opened his eyes was Mom. Mom is gone.

And today they have to think about her a lot, talk about her to other people. They have to open their home to other hunters, be hosts.

A minute or two later, Sam wakes up. He raises his head and looks at Dean's face.

Dean sees something there he never expected to see again, something between desire and romantic affection.

He'd stopped thinking about it. They were going back to the way things were when he kept his feelings secret, except now they're not afraid to be close in other ways.

But Sam is thinking about it now, and it makes Dean want it. He looks up at Sam, waiting.

"I'm sorry," Sam says. "You weren't supposed to know."

"Know what?" Dean touches his brother's face, just to keep him there for a few more seconds.

They're so physically close it's impossible not to know what the other is thinking. Everything hurts so much they can't help but want a distraction, no matter what they've said in the past. This is a mistake, but they're making it together.

The elder brother raises his head to meet Sam's lips with his own. They're tentative at first, but then Sam seems to make a decision and pushes Dean's head back down onto the pillow, kissing him hard.

But Dean doesn't want to let his brother be in charge this time. If he lets go of control at all, he'll break down completely, so he flips them over, ending up on top of Sam.

Sam wastes no time in taking out his cock, and neither does Dean. They don't even speak, simply take each other's lengths in hand.

It's pure stress relief, and Dean has never felt relief like this when the world outside is going to hell. He's never gone from as cold as he was a minute ago to as alive as he is now, touching Sam and feeling his brother's hand.

Neither of them take long to get to the edge. They're not trying to make this special; it's just escape. Something they can give each other.

"Dean," Sam whispers, a desperate gasp of warning.

"Come for me, Sam."

He does, giving a heavy sigh.

Dean can't hold on much longer himself, not after seeing that and still feeling Sam's hand working his cock. He closes his eyes as the sense of release overtakes him.

He flops onto his back next to Sam, and the two of them lie there quietly as they catch their breath.

This won't end pretty, Dean thinks, but at least they felt better for a few minutes, and it was better than getting into a fight and ending up covered in bruises, which is probably what would have happened if they hadn't done this.

A moment later, there's a familiar knock on the door. Castiel. The brothers exchange nervous looks. This is it. The room smells undeniably like sex, there's come all over them, and Dean can't even pretend he didn't wake up in this room less than ten minutes ago.

"Hang on," Sam calls out, pulling his sweatpants back into place. His t-shirt is a loss already so he takes it off and wipes his hand clean as he makes his way to the door.

Dean pulls the blanket up to his neck but can't tear his eyes away from his brother cracking the door open, having tossed his shirt into the corner.

"Hey, Cass..." Sam greets as casually as he can. "What's up?"

"Is Dean with you?" Cas's voice asks.

"...Why?"

"A couple of hunters have arrived, I thought I should let you both know."

"Oh. Uh, yeah, thanks."

"...So is Dean with you or not?" the angel presses. "He isn't in his room."

"Yeah, no, he's here. I'll tell him. Thanks, Cass." Sam waits a second before closing and locking the door again.

They wait until his footsteps depart before letting out sighs of relief.

"He didn't seem too surprised," Sam remarks, heading for his bureau.

"Knew he was cool with it," Dean says, even though he can feel how red his face is. He definitely is never, ever going to tell Sam that their best friend apparently got quite an eyeful that night they were (mostly) black-out drunk, so nothing they do now is going to shock the angel.

§§§

When Sam picks up the gun in the cemetery, it isn't about revenge or killing. It's just him saying no. No, the Winchesters are not "His guys"; no, they are not a story for God's entertainment; no, they won't play His games anymore; and no, they will not stand by and watch anyone, even the creator of the universe, kill their son.

He's conscious as he aims that he's holding power to end the entire multiverse. He could aim for Chuck's heart, just lower the pistol a couple degrees. But ending the universe out of anger—or even love—would make Sam no better than Michael or Lucifer, so he aims for the shoulder.

A part of him wants to miss. If he kills Chuck and everything ends right now, that's fine. He can pull the trigger without a trace of fear, for the simplest of reasons:

If this is the end, his brother Dean was right next to him, and that's all Sam ever wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued In Season 15...


End file.
